Foxy Boxing

Today is my last day as a West Virginia resident. I am definitely ready to leave ‘here’ behind, but not ready to go where I’m going. My heart is tugging me back to my old house on Walnut St. in Philadelphia. Even though the house is pretty much a constant train wreck of dust, drunken destruction, and kitchen bacterial grossness, it is also housed some of the greatest times in my life. The bureaucracy and requirements of being in a sorority got old towards the end, but it was worth all of it to meet the people I did. I met so many kindred spirits during my college years because of that house. If I was going back there I know I’d be happy and loved. But I’m not going there. I’m going somewhere totally new and while I’m sure it’s all going to end up for the best, for the moment I’m worried and stressed about it.

Packing stresses me out in a not so obvious way. Just seeing how much room all my belongings take up when put in boxes and moved around bothers me. I’ve tried (and basically succeeded) in purging so much of my stuff, but the remaining stuff still irks me. Oh, and the fact that come tomorrow I’ll have to carry it all up 3 flights of strairs and then somehow find a new place for it.

And, ya know, I’ll be living with 2 people who are basically strangers. Nice strangers, but, strangers. I’ll have to cook and provide for myself again. I know I can do it, but it just feels so sudden. And I won’t have friends for a while. And I am already navigationally challenged enough without being dumped in a place I’ve never driven or walked around in. Boo hoo, pity party for Karen, right?